Returns
by sifuXANA
Summary: A year after the battle for Manhattan, some things still feel unfinished. Of course they would, especially for someone who never got to say goodbye. Thuke, because I couldn't resist. Review please!
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson. Or the Olympians. _

_**/./././**_

"A moment like a poem, you wish you could hold it/I shut my eyes like it's frozen, it's gone when I open" -Mat Kearney

"I was an accomplice in my own frustration." -Peter Shaffer

_**/./././**_

Thalia held her head high, though inside she shook with grief. She accepted her father's compliment with grace and happiness, as well as Artemis' promise. But as she limped over on her crutches, she knew. There was no way that they could have won, unless he was gone.

She could curse Hera all she wanted. It wouldn't do anything. She knew Hera hated her, even if the statue was aimed for Annabeth; it was Hera's fault that she wasn't there. Luke couldn't possibly have known why. She doubted he had even asked about her.

And in the aftermath she didn't see Percy or Annabeth again, just hightailed it back to the Hunters' camp. She never asked anyone about Luke and no one mentioned him. Now that the war was over everyone seemed to have forgotten about her, and about how she'd been forced to sit (painfully) on the sidelines. In her head it was so obvious, but she knew there was no reason why anyone would think he had loved her once. He had poisoned her tree. He had joined Kronos, left her. Why would someone who loved her do that to her?

She almost didn't go to his funeral because no one asked her to come. But she went, because she realized she could not spend her life hiding. And as his shroud burned, a green and gold shroud stitched with a winged sandal and a crossed scythe, she could not release him with the smoke that rose. She could never release him. And that was why she cried.

She cried for him, because there had been nothing she could have done to stop him, but she would never forget it anyway. She cried because she knew he could not avoid his destiny, but it had hurt her just as much as it had hurt him. She cried because no one even knew, after all these years, how much she still loved him.

Annabeth had told her he might come back, reincarnated. But by that time she had heard the story—as she was practicing her archery some of her Hunters were discussing it as if she weren't even there—and all she felt was anger and jealousy. Annabeth was the one who had gotten the chance to proclaim her love to him, and she didn't even _love_ him. Thalia just felt even more invisible.

Then she prayed that he wouldn't try for rebirth. She was a Hunter and how would she maintain her focus if he popped up in her life again? Even if he didn't remember her. Especially if he didn't remember her.

Little by little, she tried to release him.


	2. Gateway

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians._

_**/./././**__  
_

Thalia knows she could be happy. All she's wanted was a family: after two of them failed she had finally found herself a new one. And even though the prospect of immortality sometimes frightens her—all that space stretched out ahead, the fear of talking like Zoe Nightshade had—she is content, at peace. Almost. There is one thing that still weighs down on her, something she still wants cleared up. Someone she had loved.

The Hunters are visiting camp this summer. Thalia is glad to come back, see all the familiar faces. Almost all of them, at least: Camp Half Blood suffered heavy losses in the _past year_'s war. Of course, new campers are coming in all the time after the changes Percy requested. And this year, the Hunters are actually welcomed with more than sour faces and the occasional Hermes cabin prank. Thalia suspects that it's because she is leading them this time. She isn't more popular, exactly. But the campers actually know her. And that also means they know that if they make her angry, she'll probably blast them with a bolt of lightning.

Percy and Annabeth are (gack!) holding hands. Thalia has always known it, and she wants to laugh.

"Hey Thalia," Percy greets her. "How's it going?"

She gives him a deliciously evil look, one she enjoys giving him. His nickname really suits him, but Percy is a pretty decent guy. "Hunting down monsters, 24/7. It's been pretty awesome." She gives Annabeth a hug. They've grown apart recently, but they're still good friends. Thalia remembers their days together fondly. Or she tries to; it's difficult sometimes.

_A small blond-haired girl darts out from behind a trash can, the hammer in her hand shaking._

_Laughing and lying under the stars, trading knock-knock jokes over a rare cup of hot chocolate._

_Uncomprehending gray eyes follow her as blood flows from her wounds, as she falls, as her body becomes the limbs and trunk of a tree. _

_Silence from the somehow strangely familiar face of a pretty young girl as she opens her eyes again, what feels like only seconds later. _

_Having to get reacquainted with a girl she felt like she'd grown up with, trading smiles and jokes and words spit out while climbing through rocks and lava, while learning the forms of sword fighting and archery. _

_Secrets shared in an unfamiliar school. A form to follow through crowded hallways. Penciled-in work on math handouts and library study groups that always went awry. Illegal soda nights and pillow fights and serious talks and the not-so-serious_ _ones._

_A car ride. A falling face. A comforting hand and a big decision._

The memories always flow farther than she wants them to go. Thalia can only sift out so many details before the memories are contaminated with other things, things and people she'd like nothing more than to forget. Annabeth was her best friend. All she needs.

"And," Chiron says at lunch, more enthusiastically than in past years, "as is customary, we will be having a friendly game of capture the flag tomorrow night." He glances humorously at Thalia as he says 'friendly'; he knows any game with this particular daughter of Zeus will be quite the opposite.

Two cabins wait for Thalia. Her father's cabin, large and stark and majestic, almost intolerably empty. Artemis' cabin, lonely in a beautiful way, but filled with her friends, her companions. She chooses Zeus' cabin, to be alone for a minute, and because she somehow misses her father.

"So, Thalia," Percy says later, after dinner, "we never had those cheeseburgers."

It's true. She'd forgotten. After everything that happened, suddenly cheeseburgers hadn't seemed that important anymore.

"Damn. You're right. I guess we'll have to have story time now," Thalia says, then adds wickedly, "We're still on, you know. I had much better adventures than you."

Percy raises an eyebrow. "Want to bet?"

"If I had something to bet. Go grab Annabeth. She's probably dying to hold your hand anyway." It's worth it just to see Percy's blush.

_**/./././**_

Okay, so she might have lost the bet.

_**/./././**_

Nico shows up the next morning with Mrs. O'Leary, who jumps up and licks Percy and just about knocks him over. The two boys are on their way to the sword fighting arena when Nico stops. He glances surreptitiously over towards cabin one, where Thalia sits impatiently cleaning her bow.

"What's the matter?" Percy asks.

"I'll catch up later," Nico replies, distractedly. "There's something I promised somebody I'd do."

Thalia shivers as the son of Hades approaches her. "Oh. Hey, Nico," she says.

Nico pauses. "Sweet knives," he says approvingly, studying Thalia's other weapons that lie beside her.

"Pretty awesome weapon you've got there, too," she counters, eying his sword.

Nico clears his throat. "Thalia—I have a message for you."

She freezes. "What kind of message?" she asks finally.

"I think you know who it's from."

She does know. She wasn't ready for it. But she would never be ready.

"He wants to talk to you," Nico says carefully.

Thalia stares at him, uncomprehending. She always forgets Nico can talk to the dead, but that isn't it. Not really.

Nico keeps the silence whole for a minute, then adds, "I can summon him. Whenever you want."

She looks away. It's hard to keep her gaze focused on his eyes. Dark pools…like portals to the underworld, video feeds for the dead.

When she speaks it feels like brambles are cluttering her throat, their spikes scratching into her voice. "Okay," she says.


	3. Passages

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. _

_**/./././**_

And there he is.

But like a ghost.

It's not him when he died. It's not even the Luke who had to grow up without her. It's a different Luke, the Luke he would have been if the war had never happened, if she'd never died. It's the Luke he was meant to be.

Twenty three years old, no scar she hadn't recognized marring his handsome face. His blue eyes hold none of the tortured soul she'd seen when she'd fought him on the mountain. They aren't gold either. They're a clear, uncontaminated blue. Even the trace of anger that they'd held when she first met him is gone.

Death.

Peace.

But the first thing he says is, "You weren't there."

Thalia knows what he means all too well. Her rage at him comes back in an instant. "Why should I have been?" she yells at him. "You destroyed my life! I wake up from being a freaking tree and what do I know, you're off fighting against everything I've ever known!"

"Thalia."

She's breathing heavily, but then she looks down. "I would have been. Blame Hera. For that matter, blame Annabeth." How could she say that? Jealous, she's jealous of Annabeth. Because Annabeth was there when she couldn't be. Because Annabeth saw him, and she saved him, saved them all. Because it had to be Annabeth, not her. Never her.

He reaches out, and she tries to touch his hands, his shoulders, but he's a ghost. The pain, nearly dormant for the year he's been dead, swells up in Thalia. She should be twenty two. If she hadn't been a tree, if she hadn't been a Hunter, if she hadn't been a daughter of Zeus. She would have been just perfect for him.

No longer.

"I never told you," he says. "I love you. I love you, Thalia, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry it had to happen this way."

Thalia wants to hit him, not hug him. She wants to kill him, not kiss him. No, it's no use. She does love him. She always has.

And that is why, now, she has to let him go.

_**/./././**_

Thalia is unusually quiet for the rest of the day. She eats dinner by herself at the Zeus table, contemplative, letting her Hunters converse at the next table. She isn't really in the mood for their hostile glances. Maybe they aren't big fans of camp—okay, they have an intense dislike for camp—but these are her friends and she wants them to respect that.

Her mind is a tangle of thorns and string, and she's trying to find the center. It's almost as difficult as that one year Dionysus made her untangle the Big House's Christmas lights. They'd been lying in the attic since the early 70's, and seriously, it showed.

Thalia had wanted to kill that fat wino god for even making her set foot in the attic.

She closes her eyes. She should probably thank Nico. For delivering the message.

An apology from Luke Castellan shouldn't be enough for her. After all, the war was bigger than them. But the way he told her—

_It was all for you. It was always for you._

—makes her want to accept it. She has to release his memory, so they can both be free. And she's ready to forgive him now, even if he doesn't deserve it.

(_He does_, whispers the voice in her head)

Maybe he'll come back, maybe he won't. The point is, it can't matter to her, or she isn't going to get anywhere. Now that she's found herself a real family among the Hunters she isn't just going to desert it for an unstable promise. Because let's face it: he wasn't a good bargain.

Thalia glances over at the Hunters. They are all laughing at something Sophie, daughter of Apollo, has said. It probably concerns boys. Thalia's glad to be a Hunter, even if most of the others try undermining her authority on a regular basis because she's among the younger ones. Never mind. It's nothing a few lightning blasts can't cure.

Percy is also by himself at the Poseidon table, mouthing things at Annabeth from across the room. Thalia smirks. They're such a predictable couple—incredibly easy to make fun of. It's too bad Grover isn't here this summer. Naturally, the Lord of the Wild has big responsibilities, but she'll miss that goat boy all the same.

Thalia finishes her barbecue early to go down to the beach. If she dips even one toe in, Poseidon will probably drown her, but she doesn't know when she's coming back, so she figures what the heck.

…

It's way too quiet out here. Thalia finds herself staring into the tide, wondering what Poseidon's palace looks like, wishing someone would come down here with a stereo and melt the silence away. Why did she even come down here?

"I forgive you, Luke," she whispers to the sky, even though she knows he'd be below her in the Underworld. Some dusty part of Thalia still wants to believe that the dead rise into the stars. She nudges the sand with one bare foot.

Thalia sighs and flops down on the ground. "Goodbye," she says, waving resignedly at nothing. Her words hardly even chip at the oppressive stillness. "How about a storm?" she adds wickedly, lying back and pointing her hands upwards. Lightning crackles and her grin grows. Storms take a lot of practice, but at least she's got the lightning down. With a little more concentration, the first sprinkle of rain hits Thalia in the face. Soon it's pouring down in sheets so hard she can barely see in front of her. Too bad Camp Half-Blood has those magical weather barriers. Thalia always feels better when she can experience a good storm once in a while.

"_You always were a terrible liar, Luke Castellan," she says almost playfully. He's sitting beside her, leaning against the Zeus cabin with his transparent legs outstretched _

"_And you were always too good at it, Thalia Grace," he shoots back._

_She tries to punch him. "Don't call me that!" she orders. "I wish I'd never told you my last name."_

"_I made you," he points out with a laugh. "Truth or Dare, remember?"_

"_Nobody _makes_ me do anything," she retorts, though a smile is threatening to break through. "If I told you, it was because I wanted to."_

_Their casual banter fades out and they're just sitting there, too small for any kind of future together._

_She sighs. "It isn't this easy, you know."_

"_I know," he says quietly. "I'm not coming back."_

"Thalia!" somebody yells. She turns to see Percy, Annabeth, Connor, Travis, Rachel, Will, Katie, Jake, all her friends ducking through the curtain of rain to get soaked beside her. Their arrival is like a huge, laughing dance.

Annabeth, hair plastered to her face, grabs Thalia's arm. "What are you _doing_ out here?"

"Making it rain." Another bolt of lightning illuminates the sky. "What are _you_ doing out here?"

Travis says, "We came to tell you there's a party."

"At your cabin," Connor finishes. Thalia pushes him, maybe accidentally just a little shocking him, but it sounds like a good idea.

"Okay," she agrees. "Party at my cabin. But the Hermes Cabin is on cleanup duty tomorrow."

Connor and Travis and a few other Hermes pranksters groan, but they all trounce off in one big group, pulling Thalia along with them. She doesn't look back.


	4. Hallways

_I've been having some really bad writer's block, so I hope this chapter is good. If it's not, please review and tell me how I can fix it!_

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians._

**/./././**

It's been a long, good summer. The past weeks have been filled with late nights around the campfire, truth or dare in the Apollo cabin, and the occasional harmless prank on Mr. D. It's mid-August now and Thalia and Annabeth are watching Percy surf down at the canoe lake. Or try to surf. The kid can conjure up massive waves in an unimpressive little body of water, but he can't even balance on a surfboard. Figures.

"Tell him to ditch the board," Thalia suggests lazily to Annabeth. "He's the son of Poseidon, right?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes, but she calls out, "Hey, Seaweed Brain, ditch the board!"

Startled, Percy looks up, loses his stability again, and tumbles into the waves. Both girls crack up. Annabeth's curly hair lights up white in the sun, and her laugh is a natural one. Thalia can tell why Percy fell for her.

He emerges from the waves totally dry, an ability which always throws Thalia off, then waggles his fingers at his girlfriend. Annabeth waves back.

"You two are so old school," Thalia grumbles.

Annabeth leans back with a smile. "Whatever you say."

That's another thing. Thalia was used to taking care of Annabeth, treating her like the seven-year-old child she was. She definitely can't do that anymore. Their relationship has undergone more than a few minor changes, but she has to give Annabeth credit for her tenacity. The loops and twists of time aren't any match for the daughter of Athena.

As if reading her mind, Annabeth looks over, shielding her eyes with one hand. "You all right?"

"Of course," Thalia replies, but her eyes are fixed on the lake, where Percy's busy conjuring up some more magic waves. "I've got it this time, I swear," he shouts energetically.

"Why doesn't he just go down to the beach, where the real waves are?" Thalia mutters.

"He's showing off."

"Ohhh," she says. Some people would call her tone sarcastic, but she likes to think of it as ironic. "Right."

Behind them, a few Aphrodite girls are chasing Travis and Connor Stoll, shrieking insults at the two boys. They are surprisingly fast, like antelope. Even in their designer sandals.

Travis spots Annabeth. "Hey!" he shouts desperately. "You're Athena's kid! What's the best strategy to get me out of this awfully sticky situation?"

Annabeth raises an eyebrow, but Thalia cuts in. "I'd say run."

Turning to his brother, Travis runs off with renewed gusto. Before long, the girly shrieks and flying compacts fade away.

"Thalia—" Annabeth breaks off, her face uncertain. The look on her face is unmistakable: she has whole paragraphs, confessions, entire novels that she'd like to speak, but she isn't sure if she should. "You—you're not mad at me, are you?"

Thalia can't disguise her astonishment. "No," she says, frowning. "That's stupid. Why would I be mad at you?" But she's a little uncomfortable with where the conversation is going. She's always felt like Annabeth always got what she wanted, while Thalia had to scrounge on the edges for anything at all. It's not Annabeth's fault, it isn't even true, but sometimes it's hard to contain her every person, there's something they have to fight for, and she's sure that's true for both Annabeth and her boyfriend. It's just that there's a spark of anger she can't contain sometimes, something unnecessary and brutish. It frightens her a bit, though she knows how to counteract it.

And she doesn't want to speak any of this, doesn't want to hurt her friend. So, abruptly, forcedly, obviously, she changes the subject.

"Where can I get a soda around here?"

Annabeth's sly grin comes back. "Usually I'd say the Stoll brothers—but you might want to wait a while before you ask."

**/./././**

Chiron announces another game of Capture the flag at dinner that night. After winning the first one by a long shot, Thalia wouldn't miss this one for the world. Then Chiron surprises everyone by adding that this time, the Hunters will be split among two teams to "even things out a bit." Naturally all the Hunters complain. But Thalia was a camper once, and she remembers just how it feels, not to mention the time period when she'd rather die than accept help from one of Artemis' Hunters. In fact, she's been here so long, she almost forgot who she came with. Thalia can't help but be swept along with the breeze of excitement that ripples through the tables.

The Ares cabin immediately claims Apollo and Hecate, but Athena's kids select Hunters first. Good strategy, Thalia thinks, especially when Annabeth picks her first. Having the right Hunter on your side could guarantee a win.

Thalia's not like the other Hunters. Not at all, actually. If the circumstances had been different, she would have belonged here, at Camp Half-Blood, hanging out in the Zeus cabin and kicking people's butts at the arena. But joining the Hunt was the right choice then. It was the only way Thalia could have saved herself, both from the prophecy and from—Luke.

Fighting the gods beside Luke wasn't what she wanted. _Revenge_ wasn't what she wanted. But she knows she would have been tempted if he was there persuading her, with his broken face and his broken promises. So she removed herself from the equation completely.

She's never regretted it.

Maybe she could have had a family at Camp, too. But in that first summer, that slow dreary winter, she could never have belonged here.

_Stares follow her everywhere. Most of the half-bloods are friendly, but she gets the feeling that none of them really want her there. She feels like ice. Everyone is looking past her, through her, as if she's invisible._

_She had almost thought that everything would be okay now. She wasn't dead, she wasn't a tree anymore, she had Luke and Annabeth here. How could she have been so wrong?_

_The first time she meets Mr. D, she instantly dislikes him. Okay, so his attitude is annoying, and he refuses to call her anything but 'girl', but he's also the god of wine. She doesn't want to draw a connection, but it's so easy to blame Mr. D. for the way her mother turned out. Every time she even glances at him, at his bloodshot eyes and his red nose—it's difficult to keep her mother's memory from resurfacing. _

_She'd feel bad for these thoughts if he wasn't such a jerk. Unfortunately, he's also a god, so she can't blast him._

_And some people here—Mr. D. included—seem to hate her, just for being alive. Why don't they hate Zeus for breaking the oath? Or Kronos for trying to use her? Or Luke for poisoning her tree? She's already starting to hate Luke. She can feel it spreading through her body of ice, warming her like venom._

The memory doesn't bother her anymore. It's just something that happened, another piece of time that reminds her how temporary everything is.

She's happy where she is. And that's not going to change.

Though it's worth it to visit Camp, if only to kick everyone's butt at Capture the Flag once in a while.

**/./././**

Like Thalia predicted, her team wins Capture the Flag. She ends up with more than a few cuts and bruises, but these things are only to be expected.

The day after, she's helping Connor Stoll and a quirky new son of Nemesis rig a trap in front of the Ares cabin. Clarisse led her siblings out to the sword arena a couple minutes ago and they hopefully won't come back any time soon. Rory, the son of Nemesis, has turned out to have a surprisingly large amount of tricks up his sleeve. Connor's declared him an honorary Hermes kid.

"I've been helping you with pranks for years, and what do I get?" Thalia complains.

"Zeus might zap me if I suggested you weren't his," Connor says with a straight face.

Rory finishes installing a nearly invisible trip wire, and Connor goes over to help with a few other mechanics. Thalia, in the meantime, is in charge of hooking up the slimy fresh stash of seaweed Percy provided her with.

Maybe not entirely appropriate behavior for the lieutenant of Artemis, but Thalia's never outgrown her mischievous streak.

Finally, the three of them step back to admire their handiwork. "That's going to be one angry war god cabin," Rory remarks with a crooked grin. It's remarkable close to the good-natured one Thalia used to know, so many years ago.

**/./././**

Annabeth's been acting a little weird. Percy has been too, but that's another story. Because there was seaweed involved in yesterday's prank, Clarisse thought a Poseidon kid was responsible, and Percy's been lying low ever since. Thalia hadn't counted on that. But at least she's not the one being hunted down by an angry Ares camper.

But Annabeth hasn't even really talked to her since that day by the canoe lake. Not that she's avoiding Thalia, but whenever they meet, it's full of the kind of vapid small talk she usually hates. Thalia can sense that Annabeth wants to say something really profound and life-changing, and Thalia hasn't been too encouraging.

_I would give anything to return back to those days,_ ghost-Luke whispers. _You and me and Annabeth, a family again._

That's something she told him she'd uphold. So she'll talk to Annabeth.

But for now she just wants to savor the warm-sunlight feeling she's been having, like absolutely nothing could ever go wrong.


	5. Barriers

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians._

_**/./././**_

The next day Thalia heads for the arena with an old mace canister that she hasn't seen in a long, long time. As the lieutenant of the Hunters she usually uses a bow and arrow, or her favorite wicked hunting knives. The last time she used her spear was—

On Mount Orthrys. Fighting Luke.

She'd been so angry. But she never meant to kill him.

Thalia focuses on the straw dummy in front of her. Someone has pinned a note to the dummy's chest that identifies it as 'Cronos'. The culprit is likely someone who can't spell—which narrows it down to just about everyone.

She's kind of rusty with her old weapon, but she doesn't particularly want to take it slow. Her spear raised, Thalia charges the dummy with a classic war cry, stabbing it in the thigh, the stomach, the heart. Cronos goes down bleeding straw. The next dummy is unlabeled, and Thalia pretends she's fighting that manticore from three winters ago, Dr. Thorn. _His tail whips around and she intercepts a poisoned spike with her spear, slicing it cleanly in two. Just one blow to the chest and—_

"Hey."

Thalia spins around. Her spear is halfway to Annabeth's neck before she realizes who it is.

'Oh." She lowers the spear, strangely embarrassed, and it shrinks back into the mace canister. "Hey, Annabeth. I was, uh, kind of caught up in what I was doing."

The blond girl smirks, and their usual positions seem oddly reversed. The world is upside down. "Yeah, I could see that." Thalia starts to pocket the canister when Annabeth says, "No, don't put that away. Have you ever sparred with me?"

Thalia starts to say something, and then she realizes that she hasn't. She's never sparred with Annabeth.

"All right," Thalia says, her spear growing back to full size. At the same time, she feels herself rush back into her silhouette. The world rights itself. "Bring it on!"

Annabeth laughs and draws her bronze knife, a knife that plunges Thalia into an endless pool of memories. She shakes her head and the two of them go at it.

Fighting two spineless, unmoving dummies gave Thalia false confidence. No matter how much she doesn't want to admit it, she feels dangerously off-balance wielding the spear. But she certainly puts on a show to cover it up.

"You always did beat Luke," Annabeth grunts, easily blocking a blow, "but you're pretty out of practice."

Thalia raises an eyebrow. Annabeth hasn't said his name since last summer, when he died. "Say that again when I've got my hunting knives out," she threatens, moving in to strike.

It soon becomes clear that they're almost evenly matched, and eventually Annabeth surrenders, dropping down to have a seat on the arena's floor. Thalia grins. She was about to give in first, but now her pride's been spared. She sits next to Annabeth—

—And she's almost forgotten what she needed to say. Sheets of sunlight attack her eyes and she's speechless. It reminds her of those mornings so long ago when her mother would shake her out of bed and she would be so disoriented she'd fall off the mattress.

"Spit it out," Annabeth says on her left.

Thalia jumps. Is she that predictable? She's always been good at hiding what she's thinking, but now doubt spreads through her.

"What's _wrong_?" Thalia manages.

"What?"

"_You're_ the one with something to tell me," she retorts, annoyed. "_You_ spit it out."

Annabeth opens her mouth, but she doesn't look annoyed. Just calm, sympathetic, which drives Thalia completely crazy.

"Thalia, I just feel like I did something wrong," she admits.

"You think I'm mad at you."

"Aren't you?"

Annabeth says it with such conviction and authority that Thalia feels like a child in the psychiatrist's chair. What can she say to that? What can anyone say to that?

Annabeth is too full of wisdom. And here Thalia is left to bumble around and make a mess of everything, while every damn child of Athena could have given her the answers. Yes. She _is_ angry.

"You don't deserve it," Thalia says finally.

Combing her hair her fingers, Annabeth mutters, "I wish you had been there."

_Lying in the center of a crumbling city. Every inch of Olympus torn down __**brick by brick**__. Falling into the void. No matter how hard she tries, she keeps thinking of Grover's fake feet, the way he can just remove them from his hooves—but she won't think anything so cynical. She's going to get out of this. And now her thoughts turn to the scene in the throne room._

_She already knows what is going to happen. Whether or not Kronos wins this war, she is going to lose what she loves most. Actually, she already has._

"No," Thalia tells her. "No. It happened and maybe I was angry, but you never deserved it and I'll just forget it now. You had just as much right to be there as I did."

"You think I didn't know, but I always did."

Thalia blinks. This conversation has just taken a cryptic turn. "Um, what?"

"I _know_. He always loved you, Thalia."

Annabeth's tone is accusatory, and she feels the need to reassure her friend. "He loved you too."

"But he never loved me the way he loved you."

"Perceptive," Thalia remarks, the statement ironic in her mind. But it's true. She can't help but add, "Percy loves you, Annabeth. I can tell just by looking at him. You don't need Luke."

At this, Annabeth turns to her and says, "Do you?"

A year ago Thalia would have had to say yes. Ever since the time she ran with him, she needed him. As a tree, even after waking up and hating him for his treachery, she needed him. But suddenly everything has changed. "Not anymore," she says, and it has all the silvery weight of the truth.

Annabeth accepts this, letting her hands fall to her lap. "Maybe if we'd saved him," she muses. "But it was fate."

Fate. Fate. Something Thalia has always hated, and never seemed to grasp. She's never believed that _fate_ really exists. _Fate_ just trivializes everything she's done. If it wasn't her own decision—if she doesn't have decisions—then what is she? Another shell of metal with nothing inside?

And that's why she didn't understand why Luke had to do what he did. Does she understand it now? She thinks she should. But maybe she's not supposed to. Maybe—maybe she has to _trust_ him.

And he's still dead. Why does this have to drag on so long? Why can't she just let it go?

Annabeth stretches out, staring at the sky. "Do you remember how you used to tell me stories?" she says faintly, and suddenly she's seven years old again, the little girl Thalia used to take care of.

"Yeah. I do. I can't believe you still remember that."

Annabeth laughs. "I was seven. Those crazy stories made a pretty big impression on me."

Storytelling was never one of Thalia's strengths, but somehow she improvised for Annabeth. The stories were always LONG, confusing, full of accidental twists and turns; Thalia always ended up having to insert obnoxiously incorrect explanations to cover up for her inconsistencies. The main characters always gained impossible powers at critical moments, and usually she borrowed details from Cinderella or Rapunzel (incidentally, tales Thalia had always hated). The stories sucked, basically, but for some reason Annabeth loved them.

Thalia remembers Luke's face when she told stories to Annabeth: usually he was trying to hold in his laughter and only partially succeeding.

"Once upon a time," Annabeth begins, "there lived a boy named Andy. He used to live in a giant mansion with his mom, but he got so smelly that she had to kick him out…" Thalia is surprised to learn that Annabeth remembers this story perfectly. It started out as a lighthearted tale, but in the end Andy leads an uprising of angry badgers against his mother and banishes her from her mansion. When you're bad at telling stories, sometimes you end up pulling wishes out of your own life. Also, Andy never learns to take a bath. Most of Thalia's stories were conspicuously lacking in morals.

"The alien warthogs left him along, he got to slide down the banisters of his mansion every day, and no one ever told him to take a bath again," Annabeth finishes with a flourish.

Thalia groans. "Okay, I'm really impressed. But seriously—if you ever tell anyone—"

"Don't worry, don't worry. I wouldn't willingly invoke your terrible wrath."

The sun is really pounding down now. Thalia frowns. She isn't used to Annabeth making fun of her. It's supposed to be the other way around.

"In your stories," Annabeth says, "nothing was ever black and white. And that's the way life is. You knew it then and that's how I learned."

"There were also alien warthogs and talking poison ivy."

"All of which captured my short attention span," she retorts.

Thalia looks over at Annabeth, who's staring peacefully at the sky, her hair twisting casually against the floor of the arena. This girl is her connection, her once-link to Luke. She thinks of it like a paper chain, with her on one side and Annabeth on the other, Luke the hands that keep them together. Now Luke's been cut away and there's nothing to do but join with Annabeth and hope the tape holds them together.

"Fine," Thalia sighs. "You win." So this is what it's like to give in. To let something go. So this is what it's like to surrender to all the forces around her and just let them carry her away.

"You're getting sunburned on your nose," Annabeth points out and Thalia jolts up, forgetting her moment of philosophy to get out of the sun.

_**/./././**_

_**(Do you like where this story is going? Was this part too long? Do you want more action? I think I'm going to end it soon. Feedback would be appreciated!)**_


	6. Tunnels

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians._

_**/./././**  
_

Thalia ends up with a bright red sunburn across her nose. Now instead of looking tough and mysterious, she just looks dorky.

To make things worse, the only sunscreen at camp is SPF 50,000. Who uses SPF 50,000? Someone told her once that it was used to beat some kind of fire-breathing monster. But what kind of monster can only be defeated using _sunscreen_?

While Thalia is browsing around the camp store, looking hopefully for some kind of magic burn eraser, she spots Travis Stoll ducking underneath a rack of camp T-shirts. Whatever he's doing here, it can't be good. Thalia bolts on instinct and guesses she'll probably hear about it later.

Today the camp seems subdued—besides the Stoll brothers, who are the exception to everything. Naiads drift languidly through the canoe lake, and campers are stretched out underneath trees and in patches of grass. Everyone's been avoiding the climbing wall, which has been pretty rabid lately. The ground around it is still scorched.

The only sign of movement is over at the volleyball courts, where Percy and a Hephaestus kid are lazily smacking a ball around. Thalia tries to remember the Hephaestus kid's name but can't. She remembers one of his siblings, Jake Mason, from the war. Hephaestus kids are pretty cool; they're usually funny, plus they're great at crafting stuff, something Thalia envies. Zeus is more of a destructive god than a creative one.

She heads down to the court. Percy waves at her, missing the ball as it rolls into the sand.

"Hey," he says good-naturedly. "What's going on?"

"I'm bored."

Percy shrugs. "You know Luis, right?"

Thalia nods at him.

"Want to join?" Luis offers. Percy picks up the ball and tosses it to her. Thalia hesitates.

Instantly, the son of Poseidon picks up on her uncertainty. "Thalia—you can't play volleyball?"

"No!" she snaps. "I didn't really have a whole lot of time for _games_ my first summer here."

Percy holds up his hands, but his eyes are laughing. Thalia wants to punch him. Or zap him, even better. "No problem," he says. "It's super easy, I'll teach you. But you lived in Los Angeles, right? Up on the beach. You really never played?"

Thalia's childhood. Ugh. She never had anyone to play with, anyway. Her mom was always either passed out somewhere or at an audition. She never had any friends at school, a problem she's sure Percy had too. Honestly, Thalia spent most of her time dodging bottles and learning how to fight.

So she ignores him. Percy just shrugs again and shows her how to hit the ball, count the points, whatever. Thalia nods and nods, but all that's running through her mind is _if I lose at this, Seaweed Brain will never let me live it down_.

"Okay," Luis says, flipping the ball back and forth between his hands. "You ready?"

Thalia gets into what she thinks is an appropriate stance. "Bring it on."

Percy glances at Luis. "You want us to bring it on?" He grins evilly and moves over to Luis' side of the net.

"Huh uh. You can't do that!" Thalia protests.

"Watch me," Percy says. The first chance he gets, he pounds the ball across the net right at Thalia. She ducks out of pure self-preservation.

The boys trade high fives while Thalia brushes off her jeans. "Don't test me, Seaweed Brain!" she yells.

Percy just smiles sweetly and proceeds to beat the crap out of her at volleyball. What a stupid game, anyway. Who the Hades invented this?

After about five minutes of this, Thalia snaps. "That's _it_. I abstain. I quit, whatever. I'm never playing volleyball with you again. _Never_."

"One more point, Thalia," the son of Poseidon pleads, serving the ball straight at her head. This time he's gone too far. Thalia's initial reaction is to shock him. Like a giant sizzling bolt of lightning that only a daughter of Zeus could create.

She goes with that.

The second she summons the electricity Percy backs up, his face pale. "No no no, Thalia! I take it back!" She has a nasty flashback to the fight she had with him years ago over Capture the Flag—but she lets loose anyway.

Percy falls backwards, but he doesn't stay down for long. "Oh, gods," Thalia mutters when she realizes they aren't that far from the creek. Before she knows it, she's doused.

Luis stares at the two of them, smoking and dripping, and breaks into laughter. That only makes Thalia madder. She hates getting wet. She starts to call up more lightning, then lowers her hands. She's got to stop being so touchy. Besides, she can beat Percy up later.

"What's the matter, Pinecone Face?" Percy asks with genuine surprise. Gods, she hates that nickname.

"Just feel lucky I didn't decide to electrocute you," Thalia shoots back. She heads away from the arena, ignoring the small crowd of semi-interested campers who gathered at the sound of a fight. She's starving. Maybe Travis stole some snacks from the camp store.

_**/./././**_

Cabin One: giant white columns lightning-shaped torches, plush interior decorated in silver and dark blues. Some of the new cabins are pretty sweet, but there's no denying the Zeus Cabin is top pick. Plus, it's quiet.

Thalia's hoping to blast some Green Day (ruining the quiet) and eat the weird pastries Travis offered her, but before she even reaches her cabin she's accosted by Annabeth.

"Hey Thals," Annabeth says, stepping in front of her.

Thals. Her old nickname.

"I have something for you," Annabeth says, placing something cool in Thalia's hands. "I think he would want you to have it."

Thalia opens her palm and stares at Luke's old camp necklace. Five delicately painted camp beads jostle each other for room on a worn thread. Next to the beads is a small gray stone with a hole in the middle. Thalia swallows. She remembers the stone, and the story behind it.

In her hand is something Luke wore around his own neck once. It's the most concrete part of him she has.

_I'm sorry it had to happen this way_, ghost-Luke whispers in her ear.

She swallows. "Thanks, Annabeth."

Annabeth offers her a smile, the knowing smile of someone who's just given her a secret to clutch by her heart.

The instant Annabeth walks away, Thalia regrets accepting the necklace. She'd given up holding on to him. And yet here's another piece of the boy she'd loved, burning through her fingers, attracted to her like a magnet.

And suddenly she has just one more thing she needs to tell him. One more thing, just an inch more of clarity, and she'll be done. She can give him all away, every little piece of him, and be honestly free. Honestly.

_**/./././**_

At the campfire that night, the Apollo kids stir up a chorus of "Zeus'll Be Comin' Round Olympus When He Comes", a real tongue twister. Thalia sits between Clarisse (gack!) and Rory, singing along with the best of them. The necklace feels like ice in her pocket.

Burning high into the night, the fire is a pure vibrant red, but Thalia thinks she sees just a little streak of orange, a confused and muddy color.

Thalia's someone who's had to fight for everything, all her life. But there have also been times where she's needed to yield, to let it go. She's working on it. She is.

_Of course it's cold. He's dead._

But she puts this aside, and lets it fade to the back of her mind. She's in the music and the fire and the warmth and her friends, and with every minute she's succeeding, part by part, in forging ahead.

_**/./././**_

_Let me know how you liked it! I'm going on vacation now so there won't be another chapter for a few weeks, sorry :( Also, ThaliaGrace04, your request is coming..._


	7. Doorways

_Sorry for the long wait!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians._

_**/./././**_

_**/./././**_

_The hellhound is bigger than anything Thalia has ever fought before. It's the size of the doughnut shop on 12th, fangs as long as jumbo ice cream cones dripping with drool the consistency of jam filling. Thalia backs up instinctively. "Luke Luke Luke," she mutters, gripping her weapon so hard her knuckles turn white, secretly terrified. Then he's beside her and his hand finds hers and something surges through her. And suddenly she's not so scared anymore._

_The battle doesn't last long. In just a few minutes the hellhound takes a spear in the stomach and dissolves into dust. They both collapse on the ground, breathing hard. Luke has a scratch on his cheek, but he just tilts his chin up and closes his eyes, and they are silent for a minute. Just for a minute._

"_Thalia."_

"_What?"_

_She turns to see Luke crack that mischievous god-of-thieves grin. "You should have seen your face," he snickers._

_Thalia throws a rock at him, but he just sits up and catches it. He holds it between his thumb and index finger like a diamond. "A present for me, Thalia?" he asks with mock gratitude, pocketing the stone. "Wow, I don't know what to say!" He barely has time to laugh before Thalia tackles him._

That was just a few months after she met him. And he kept it, a silent lump of dust and dirt and mineral, all this time?

_**/./././**_

Thalia makes the mistake of asking Annabeth how designing Olympus is going. It's obvious that Annabeth is excited, and for the next half hour she flings sketches around, babbling about structural supports and foundations and Doric columns. Some of the designs do look pretty cool.

They're sitting on a log near the burned-out campfire, and Thalia keeps glancing around, though she tries to seem interested in what Annabeth is telling her. She's saved by a tap on her shoulder. "Someone wants to see you," says Hayley, a daughter of Janus who, frankly, creeps Thalia out. Hayley nods toward Annabeth. "You too."

She trounces off, making Thalia wonder what kind of person could possibly fall in love with Janus. Annabeth just looks puzzled. "You could come with me sometime," she offers, packing up her notes. "To see how Olympus is going."

Thalia's about to respond when she sees someone walking up to her. Actually, trotting would be more like it. Grover's horns have grown even longer and he seems to be cultivating an afro. He's gotten a bit of a tan, but he's still unmistakable.

Annabeth gives him a hug. Thalia tries to ruffle his hair, but her hand keeps hitting his horns. "Hey, goat boy. How's it going?"

"I've been overseeing the restoration of the Wild!" Grover exclaims. "Oh, and I found a few demigods in my spare time. Mostly sons of Apollo. One daughter of Hephaestus." He wrinkles his nose. "You wouldn't believe all the horrible haikus I had to listen to."

"Apollo needs to control himself around the ladies," Thalia puts in.

Smacking her on the arm, Annabeth says, "Thalia!"

Mouth open, the Lord of the Wild looks between them. "No," he says, laughing. "She's right."

They're heading toward the Mess Hall when Annabeth stares down at her empty hands with the look of a mother who's accidentally left her baby behind. Her Olympus designs flutter beside the campfire. "I'll be right back," she promises. With a fleeting wave, she runs off.

"How are _you_, Thalia?" Grover asks her quietly, glancing at her.

"Fine." She frowns. "What do you mean?" Then Grover's look connects with something in her mind. The last time they saw each other—but she doesn't think he's talking about her broken legs.

"I talked to him," she tries. "He's okay, I'm okay. We're all peachy!" Thalia throws her hands in the air, dramatic. Grover just stares at her.

"I'm all right. Seriously. I'm fine. How's Juniper?" The Girlfriend is a classic topic-changing technique; works every time. She lets Grover's words fill the silence he hears while she drifts. Thinking of years and years ago and everything in between, things she wishes she'd never said and things she's always wanted to say, things she never wanted to hear. Enough, now. That's enough.

_**/./././**_

"Nico?" Thalia's not shy but there are some things she never wants to ask for. "Can you do me a favor?"

Nico is using his Stygian iron sword to hack a practice dummy to bits. Though slightly gruesome to watch, the son of Hades' skill is spellbinding. A small crowd has formed around the arena.

When he looks up, his deep eyes seem to freeze her where she stands. "Let me guess," Nico says, no annoyance in his voice, and sheathes his sword with one long, sharp sound.

_**/./././**_

This time, he's confused when he sees her. "Thalia?" he asks, squinting at her as if she's standing miles away.

Thalia's resolve crumbles. "Sorry. I'm sorry to bring you here again."

A pause. Luke focuses on her. "It's okay. But please—"

"This is the last time. I swear."

When he approaches she almost flinches away. Their conversation, this whole meeting, is too choppy. There's no context. Suddenly it feels like she hardly knows him, their endless words from years ago flying past her like ghosts.

"I just—" He doesn't belong here anymore. He's disoriented. His skin is too pale. The world of the dead is his. "What's it like?" Thalia says abruptly and somehow he understands. Something Thalia had simultaneously loved and hated about Luke was the way he could always see right through her, no matter how she tried to hide herself away. On everyone else it worked. But Luke was immune.

"It's not so bad." He tries stepping closer to her and this time, she moves toward him too. "I thought I was going to Asphodel, but somehow—" He smiles then. "Still, I'm a little lonely."

"Luke—" Thalia closes her eyes. She's letting him go, she's letting him go. _I would give anything to return back to those days_. "Luke, when I die—" Because it will happen, and she doesn't know how to discard him for all time.

"I'll always be here for you, Thalia. There's nothing wrong with that," Luke says gently. He's the same Luke she talked to last time, and although being here makes him appear tired, drained, he looks almost happy. "I love you."

Gods, when did she get so emotional? And the annoying thing is, Luke can tell, and if he were alive he'd probably tease her until she hit him. Things seem so different now. "I love you too. But I'm a Hunter now."

He nods. "You'll go down fighting," he tells her, serious, but with a crinkle of tenderness in his eyes. He knows she's scared. Just as she's going to leave, he adds, 'Your nose is burned."

"Shut up, Luke!" But a hint of laughter is breaking through her voice.

"It suits you," he smiles quietly and holds out his hands. She puts hers on top of his, pretending she can feel the touch of his skin. "Goodbye," Luke says, weighted with finality. Thalia doesn't say anything back, but she's positive he knows what she means.

_**/./././**_

Thalia's always felt that the pine tree still contains a part of her, something she left behind without knowing. She can't see in the dark, obviously, but something about her tree guides her, draws her closer like a magnet.

In her first days at camp she came here a lot. Now it's been too long. By sitting here, she can reclaim something; a little piece of her at a time.

Enough, now. She's not facing this world alone.

Thalia's fast, and she's strong, but her weakness is that she never knows when to stop. When to surrender, when to give in, when to let go. This would be a good time. Darkness touches each branch of her pine tree like connecting the dots. A slender sheet of fog swirls around the top needles. A sort of thin hum vibrates faintly through the trunk. Snoring lightly, Peleus the dragon sleeps around the other side, sending jets of steam periodically through his nostrils. For some reason, he didn't wake up when Thalia came. Maybe her presence is too similar to the tree's.

Stars light up briefly across the sky like a sprinkling of freckles. This is where it all began, and this is where it is all going to end.

_**/./././**_

She buries the necklace next to the pine tree—the person he used to be and the person she used to be, grounded to the past like they always should have been. That's where she leaves them.


	8. Columns

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. _

_**/./././**_

At breakfast Thalia studies Nico. Dark hair and sometimes the hint of a smile, one of the only people she can't read. What does he think of all this?

Stuck between two worlds, two worlds he maybe hated once, forever hovering from one to the other, remnants of each floating across his face. Like her, Nico was swallowed by time. He seems like all the discarded pieces of others jammed together, like a volatile combination that was never meant to just_ fit_. Thalia feels like that too. There are seven million little parts of her, some caged and buried deep, some coaxed into the light, some parts no one else would want that feel essential. They are complicated people. Would he understand?

How easily can Nico read her?

_**/./././**_

"Beat me by a mile, huh?" Thalia repeats, hand on hip. "Those dryads were right. You really are slower than a tree."

Beside her, Percy collapses on the ground, panting. "Come on, Thalia. You're wounding my ego!"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to do that," she responds slyly.

It's a safe bet that Percy's already regretting challenging her to a triathlon (or rather, quintathlon) of contests. She's already beaten him in swordplay and archery, her stronger points. Unfortunately, canoeing is up next, and Thalia's most likely going to get a faceful of cold lake water.

"Just you wait," Percy threatens. He doesn't look too intimidating, half-passed out in the dirt, but he's unbeatable near any kind of water.

Thalia doesn't have advantages of that kind. Her father's the lord of the sky, but Thalia is (yes, it's ironic, as Percy has so kindly pointed out countless times) afraid of heights. Not that there are many flight-related activities in Camp Half Blood. The only thing that comes close is riding the pegasi, and since horses were created by Poseidon, Thalia stays away from them.

Generally she stays away from water, too. But if anyone understands a challenge, the gods do, so she's counting on Percy's dad cutting her a little slack today. Besides, a canoe lake in the middle of a demigod training camp is probably as safe as it gets.

Yet as soon as Thalia steps into the canoe she knows this is a bad idea. Hopefully the other campers will stay away, right? Wrong. What looks like the entire Hermes cabin has gathered around, which to Thalia is reminiscent of _The Birds_. This means nothing but trouble.

The canoe shakes so bad, she half-falls into it. Not smooth. Behind her, a couple of Hermes girls are laughing, so she shoots them one of her favorite evil looks. Hermes boys are fun to hang around as long as they're not pranking you, but Thalia's never gotten along with Hermes girls. It's a good thing they're rare.

Adam, a lanky fourteen-year-old, decides he's the referee. "On your mark," he announces in a theatrical voice. Thalia frantically searches for her oar. "Get set…" Now she wonders why she ever agreed to this. Percy could probably sail through a hurricane and come out unharmed. "Go!" Adam roars, and Thalia jams her oar into the murky water like there's no tomorrow.

But she's hopeless, of course. There's a reason she almost never ventures into a canoe. She may be fast and clever and strong but on the water she has absolutely no coordination.

Percy turns around about a hundred feet ahead of her and grins, mock encouragingly. Scowling back, Thalia tries to concentrate. She wishes she could hit him.

Even Connor is laughing at her. The scowl she's wearing might become permanent if this isn't over soon.

Just before the son of Poseidon wins the race, just before she could maybe get out of here without further humiliating herself, Thalia tips over and the canoe spits her out into the lake. The water, for some reason, is freezing. She tries to blow a hank of dripping hair out of her face, but it's stuck to her forehead like paper mache.

Thalia hates being wet.

"Way to go, Pinecone Face!" Percy hollers from the other side, where he dangles his perfectly dry feet into the water. Did he make her canoe flip? She instantly starts calculating her chances of revenge. Shocking him in the water would just be a bad idea. Dunking him in the lake (which she could, easily) would have no effect whatsoever. She can't touch him. Not here.

She clambers out onto the shore, leaving the canoe to drift around lazily. "One out of four, Seaweed Brain," she shouts back, knowing he hates the nickname when it comes from her. Only his _girlfriend_ is allowed to insult him. "What's next?"

He's still grinning. "Climbing wall. Still up for it?"

Oh, gods. Not the climbing wall. There is nothing, not even canoeing, that Thalia hates that much. Her first week at camp, she tried to scale it and burned her elbow. The thing has it out for her.

"Bring it on," Thalia shoots back, a degree of terseness in her speech. Conflict could ensue. She and Percy are prone to fighting. Duh.

Sometimes she wonders if Zeus and Poseidon ever look down on them shocking and soaking each other and place bets. It wouldn't surprise her.

The lake is settling down from the race. Now it just thrums slightly, a reminder of the conflict it has only recently endured.

_**/./././**_

Even with the challenge hanging in the air, the both of them decide—without speaking—that they need to take a break. The crowd of Hermes kids disperses, and Thalia stretches out in the grass. Percy hesitates.

"Have a seat," Thalia offers sincerely. Usually she has to remind herself that she's actually friends with Percy.

He shrugs and settles next to her, but he looks everywhere but in her direction.

"Looking for your girlfriend?"

Maybe the kid is actually maturing. A few years ago, all it would take was the word 'girlfriend' for Percy to blush tomato-red. What he does now is relax.

An awkward silence drifts between them. To fill the gap Percy starts skipping rocks. Naturally, each one skips from one end of the lake all the way to the other. Just another advantage of being a child of Poseidon. When Thalia was little, she used to love skipping rocks. She didn't grow up knowing she was the daughter of Zeus; she doesn't even think her mom knew. But she's always known she was special (though the school counselors would have called her something more along the lines of 'psychotic'). She'd get the feeling that there was a whole other world out there that no one else could see and that she'd only caught glimpses of. Something instinctual kept Thalia away from the water, so while other kids went swimming she just threw things. It just seemed right.

"So, Thalia," Percy says, flipping another rock into the lake. "How long are you staying?"

"This is my last week. Artemis is coming tomorrow," Thalia answers. Is she happy about this? Sad? She can't even tell. This has probably been the longest the Hunters have ever stayed in camp. If it hadn't been for Thalia, they probably would have left weeks ago. Some of them have been getting irritable, taking long trips outside of camp.

"Will Artemis mind if you're staying in the Zeus cabin when she shows up?" Percy points out. His eyebrows are raised.

She grumbles. "No worries. I'm moving my stuff into the Artemis cabin today." She was going to move in after the first couple weeks, but she just forgot. There's something about her father's cabin that calls to her more than Artemis'. The king-sized bed and private bathroom don't hurt, either.

"Good call. Just hope Zeus doesn't mind."

Thalia wonders a lot why her father loved her mother enough to break such a big oath. If he did love her at all. She heard some pretty awful stories about the lord of the sky from Latin class, but she doesn't want them to be true.

"You never know," Percy continues. "I mean, I only met him a couple times, but it seemed like he had a pretty bad temper. You're definitely not adopted."

She rolls over. "Stop it before he blasts you."

"You _really_ take after him. Remember the time I borrowed one of your Green Day CDs? You almost fried me! And that was just a CD. You two need father-daughter therapy."

"Stop it before _I_ blast you."

"Calm down, Thalia. You're only proving my point." Percy's laughing, infuriatingly.

She throws a rock at him. And he catches it. She freezes, staring at him. He opens his mouth to say something and she opens her mouth to say something and then she just pelts him with rocks so that neither of them can say a thing, can say anything that would ever make this stick in her mind.

And the funny thing is, it works.

_**/./././**_

The consequence is that Percy refuses to race her up the climbing wall, using the rock-sized bruises on his arm as an excuse. But just when Thalia thinks she got off easy, he added that it wouldn't be a quintathlon if they didn't complete the final challenge. So now he's calling in a substitute. He had better not choose an Ares kid, or he'll have some more bruises to add to his collection.

Thankfully, the climbing wall has settled down since its temper tantrum a few days ago. Thalia's trying to memorize the shortest route to the top when Percy calls, "Hey Thalia! Come meet your opponent!"

He's standing next to a girl with curly red hair and paint-splattered jeans. Rachel. Thalia only met her briefly during the war, but they've hung out a couple times during the past two months. She's pretty cool for a mortal.

"Hi," Rachel says. She looks a little uncertain, but Thalia can't really blame her.

"Now bow to each other," Percy commands.

Thalia rolls her eyes. "This is a race up a climbing wall, Percy. Not a martial arts tournament."

"Just bow!"

The formalities over with, Thalia and Rachel take their positions at the bottom of the wall, looking equally nervous. Thank the gods the Hermes cabin didn't show, though that most likely means they're playing a trick on one of the other cabins.

Percy whistles for them to start, and they both start climbing. Just a few seconds in, Thalia burns her pinky finger and swears. Rachel is already ahead.

It turns out that Rachel wins the race. Halfway to the top, Thalia's fear of heights kicks in and Rachel has to guide her up, step by step. It isn't a moment Thalia wants to remember, but at least Rachel's a good sport.

They shake hands at the end. Percy wants them to bow, but Thalia refuses. She still won the challenge overall though, and it's a safe guess that Percy isn't too happy about that. She plans to flaunt her victory at dinnertime.

"We should spar sometime. At the arena," Rachel suggests. She talks a mile a minute; Thalia finally knows what that expression means.

"You do swordplay?"

"Well, Percy's teaching me."

"Annabeth doesn't mind?" Thalia teases. Rachel just flushes.

"No?" she says, and Thalia remembers too late that the Oracle of Delphi, like a Hunter of Artemis, isn't supposed to date. Is it time to swallow her pride and apologize?

"That's too bad," she replies. "One less thing I can tease Percy about."

It's good to be herself, to use all those discarded parts no one else wants.

_**/./././**_

The sky is inky-black by the time Thalia turns in. Today was her last full day at camp, and she wanted to drink in every last bit of it, especially the campfire. It's one of her favorite things at Camp Half Blood. Everyone gathers around the fire, singing songs and toasting marshmallows and just being happy, while Thalia slips into half-dreams, basking in the warmth. The fire takes her back to times where she set flames in garbage cans or in dirt patches in the woods, in rain and snow. She got so frustrated sometimes she almost cried. Almost, but not quite. That's when she felt a gentle touch, gentler than in the daytime, soft against her wrists, taking the matches and helping her. He was a different person in the dark, when he thought no one was watching. She liked both those people. She _loved_ both of them.

Thalia's hoarse from all the silly campfire songs she sang tonight, but she thinks she's content. Finally. Of course, tomorrow she'll be displaced, though she's pretty sure she can handle it, but something about her departure feels hollow. She's not sure.

The Zeus cabin stands out against the night sky—stark, monumental, solitary—but tonight her path turns away, to the silvery Artemis cabin. Thalia bites back a silent goodbye. Suddenly she's very nostalgic—but for what?

The Hunters are already asleep. In the dark cabin she watches them all, their bodies pressing a pattern into the floor, and feels something like ironic tenderness, a feeling one might get staring at a puppy through a windowpane. But soon she'll be joining their ranks again, adding one more line to the imprint they will leave. She curls into her bed.

That night Thalia dreams of things long forgotten, if she ever knew them in the first place.


	9. Running Backwards Through the Entrance

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Maybe if I did, everyone would recognize my genius...ha, ha._

_**/./././**_

Running Backwards Through the Entrance (And Rewinding the Tape Again)

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**_

Thalia wakes up at maybe five in the morning, suddenly feeling very, very nervous.

The sun is wavering on the horizon. It's a weird time of day: shadows slant oddly, casting an unnatural sheen over everything. Thalia paces restlessly in circles. The summer has flown by and unexpectedly, here she is.

Something in her has changed in these past months, and now she isn't so sure of her place. She's been staying here as a camper, not a Hunter (she spends her time talking by the canoe lake or practicing her swordplay, not terrifying daughters of Aphrodite), and she's just seeing this now. But she's not convinced that she's either one. Her category is undefined, so where does she belong?

And of course she can't hide any of this from Artemis. It's true, there's been a shift, but Thalia isn't ready just yet to start over new.

She stops walking. The silence is deafening, pressing in on her, somehow as loud as a chorus of crickets. Closing her eyes, Thalia—well, Thalia tries meditating, which is something she never thought she'd be doing.

This nervousness is tiresome. Thalia is so tired of doubting herself, judging herself from an immortal's perception. She wants to do what feels right. And what feels right isn't—this.

"What are you doing?"

Thalia jumps a foot in the air, and instantly tries to stop herself from blushing. Nico, oh-so-cool demigod of the dead, is surveying her with an expression that would be neutral if it weren't for his raised eyebrows.

"Nothing," she says quickly. Nico just cocks his head and smirks.

"You're nervous," he states. Oh gods. He _can_ read her.

"Fine, I'm nervous," Thalia snaps. "So?"

He doesn't reply. Thalia's pacing unwittingly took her to the arena, and Nico sits on one of the steps, not even looking at her. Is this what all children of Hades do? She stands there awkwardly until she gets the message and sits down.

"I never took you for the Hunter type."

"Oh, because you know me so well?"

He shrugs. "Point taken. But I figured you were at least something like me."

Crossing her legs, Thalia waits.

"I didn't figure you were the kind of person who would be cool serving a goddess for all time, because I'm not. And from what I've heard of you, you're definitely not. I don't really buy all the excuses you're making."

Electricity crackles faintly on Thalia's fingertips. "Be careful where this is going, kid."

Nico nods. Thalia thinks she could take him, but that's not counting all the skeleton warriors he could make pop up out of the ground.

"I'll just stop here, then," he says. "Probably the safest move, if your dad's temper is anything to go by."

Again with the references to Zeus' temper. Coming from Percy, it was just annoying, but Nico has a way of mentioning it that makes her want to get her hands around his neck.

"If that's what you want," he adds casually.

Being (almost) immortal. Getting (almost) first-class treatment as Artemis' lieutenant. Fighting monsters for (almost) an eternity. It sounds—almost—perfect. Yet Thalia can't deny she's been thinking of leaving. It's just that she's never thought that far ahead.

"I don't intend to stay with them forever," she whispers to Nico, as if she's afraid the goddess of the hunt has spies hiding in the trees.

"When do you think you'll leave?" he asks ironically. "After we're all dead, or before?"

Thalia's never thought about this. She doesn't want to think about this. She loves the idea of living forever, how it makes her seem so powerful and strong and iconic, but she never puts it in the context of her own life. Time had already messed her up so much, she hadn't thought it would matter. But it does, it always does.

And yet—she has a real family. That's the argument that hangs her up. She has a real family, finally, something she's always wanted. Who is she to leave it?

"I don't know," she sighs.

Nico half-smiles at her. "You should probably decide," he offers, somewhat unhelpfully, "unless Artemis kicks you out right away for talking to your _true love_." And here Thalia had forgotten Nico was still like thirteen years old.

She decides not to tackle him (a tactic Thalia's hoping will surprise him, if he knows her at all). Instead, she nurses a crackle of electricity in her palm, staring him down the whole time. This turns out to be a bad idea because Nico has perfected his own evil stare. He must have gotten it from his dad. They make faces at each other for a while, and then Thalia stands to leave.

"You should do your own thing," Nico says to her. "You'd be good at that."

"Thanks for the advice, Dr. Drew," Thalia shoots back, even though he was being serious. Part of her considers his suggestion, though. She's never been one for taking orders. Maybe she could make her own family. Maybe this time it would work.

Thalia was so desperate before, she would have taken anything she was offered—and she did. But now…things are different.

She's beginning to sound like an optimist. She's beginning to sound like a schizophrenic. It's time to take a nap.

_**/./././**_

Peaceful moments at Camp Half Blood never last long. They're like an endangered species. Thalia's nap lasts maybe ten minutes before someone starts banging thunderously on the door, and she jumps out of her bed so fast she falls over. Around her, the Hunters grumble and stir.

"_What?_" Thalia hops over to the door. "Is the camp on fire or something?"

Grover puts his fist down apologetically when she opens the door. "Sorry," he says, peering around her.

"Grover! Lady Artemis is not hiding in the cabin."

"Right, sorry," he repeats, sheepish. "I—uh—"

"You'd better have a good reason for waking me up, goat boy." Thalia puts a hand on her hip, quickly recovering.

"Yeah, uh—" Grover's still looking past her—"Chiron wants to talk to you."

Leyla, a daughter of Demeter, yells something rude to Grover from the background. Thalia takes him by the arm and leads him outside. "Grover, they don't like being woken up, especially not by boys."

"I'm a satyr," he replies, looking offended.

"Never mind. Thanks for the message." Thalia realizes she's barefoot, shrugs, and heads for the Big House.

_**/./././**_

Chiron is playing pinochle by himself on the porch when she walks up. It's maybe seven or eight by now; too early for Mr. D. to be awake. He probably has a 'hangover'.

"Hey, Chiron," Thalia says, hoping the centaur isn't going to ask her to play with him. She hates pinochle, mostly because she has no idea how to play it.

Looking up from his game, he smiles at her. Thalia genuinely likes spending time around him. He was there for her that first summer when she didn't know where to go, when she didn't know anything about the world she'd left behind or the one she'd entered. He's the one who arranged for her to go to boarding school with Annabeth after she found out her mom had died.

"Have a seat," Chiron offers. He packs up the pinochle (thank the gods!) and settles back into his wheelchair. "It was good to see you this summer."

"Um, yeah," Thalia answers. "It's good to be back. But I don't think the Hunters—"

Chiron chuckles. "Believe me, I am used to it. There's a reason they don't visit very often." He leans in close to her, as if he's about to convey something utterly important. "Thalia, you are always welcome back here. You know you can come back anytime."

Thalia nods slowly. There's something about Chiron that always softens her edges somehow, but what he's telling her makes her a little tense. Why is everyone suddenly assuming they know what's right for her? She can figure things out for herself. She's happy for now, but she's always moving on.

Chiron nods back and moves away; the confidential business is finished. "It occurs to me that I may not see you again for a long time. And as I am still your teacher, technically, I want to measure your progress in manipulating the Mist." Guilt must show on her face because he adds, "You _have_ been practicing, haven't you?"

Thalia crosses her arms. "Believe it or not, I usually have more important things to do than sit around snapping my fingers."

The truth is, she just hates looking stupid. Manipulating the Mist is actually something that Thalia likes. It's fun, almost, to bend everything to an idea, to shift reality just slightly. Some of the Hunters have heard of it, but it's the easiest for Thalia, since her father is just about one of the most powerful Olympians.

She focuses on the lesson (though she drowns out most of Chiron's lecture), trying to keep her mind from wandering too far. Chiron shows her how to shape the facts, how to curve the truth the way she wants to. Thalia wishes that she could expand this. Sitting around snapping her fingers, she wonders if there is a way to reform her life into something different, and if she would ever be able to go back.

_**/./././**_

Breakfast—when it finally comes—isn't quiet, but it seems that way to Thalia. Hunters keep talking to her and she keeps nodding at them or saying "yeah" at regular intervals, but some of them have begun to snicker and she knows she'll be the brunt of some joke later.

_Artemis is coming in an hour._

What exactly does she want?

_This is not the time for procrastination._

_Eat your eggs._

The choice is hers.

But there is no time.

What could Zeus be thinking?

_Drink your orange juice._

Look them in the eyes.

Look her in the eyes. Tell her what you mean.

_Now drink your juice._

"Why isn't there coffee?" Thalia says loudly. Conversation stops at the Artemis table. Oh gods, what if she really is crazy?

No one would understand if she told them that there are just a lot of pieces of her, and right now most of them don't know where to go.

_**/./././ **_

Artemis comes like a blackout during the critical scene in a movie. Artemis is the critical scene, the time bomb in the car or the hostage situation or whatever, and her arrival is the blackout. She is her own anticlimax.

Thalia doesn't try to mention this. Her thoughts are too mangled.

Gods and goddesses don't need transport, so Artemis basically appears out of nowhere. Most of the campers don't particularly care, especially after Thursday's tomato juice incident, but a few of them are waiting around and talking to Thalia. Grover just about faints when the goddess makes her appearance.

The Hunters all greet her, and she returns their gestures with a delicate smile and a few words. The few campers who have shown up sit around trying to look interested, and even polite. Thalia nods respectfully when her turn comes. She tries to turn, but Artemis locks eyes with her.

Thalia knows that the goddess can see everything—every thought she's had about leaving, every conversation and every mention and even the things she said to ghost-Luke. It seems like one of the longest minutes of her life. She tries to keep from biting her lip.

But Thalia isn't ashamed. She doesn't hide anything.

When Artemis pulls away, her face is unreadable, but she isn't angry. The Hunters stand gracefully, patiently, though some twitch with the thought of freedom. Already, the campers have turned away to their own tasks. Thalia now sees her path curving and stretching away from that line, a secant or a tangent to this place but nothing more. The math of it is something only she understands. Her lack of an education is embarrassing, but she's not exactly complaining.

As Artemis and the Hunters leave camp, Thalia uses all the concentration she can spare to make one last storm. Even though the storm can't pass the magical weather barriers, it surrounds the camp like four wet walls closing in. A promise, a taunt, a picture. That's her goodbye.

_**/./././**_

So this is her new life. She's had so many she doesn't even want to count. Change comforts her now, where stability used to.

"_I know what is in your mind," Artemis says softly. "And I accept it."_

From the outside, none of this seems any different. But she knows what no one else can see. If everyone is an animal, hers is one that runs and runs, that never stops running. But she is tired. And soon she is turning around.

_Acceptance._

Because, even when she didn't know it, that is all she was really hoping for.


	10. Epilogue

_**Hello!** I apologize to everyone who wanted more chapters, but I thought that now would be a really good time to end this story. If anyone doesn't think this is a good ending, I'd love suggestions. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!_

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. _

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"The rain is just a part of you/A phenomenon of nature sixteen billion years in the making" –Chris Koza

"Listen up—there's no war that will end all wars." –Haruki Murakami

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_It starts off as a dream. Not when they met, because that was the least important thing. They're camping out in an alley behind a restaurant, laying sleeping bags against the cold floor. _

_Thalia's cheeks are bright pink, illuminating her freckles, and her spiky hair looks more frizzy stuffed into a wool cap. Her movements are thick and slow when she turns._

_Luke is about thirteen, though he's hit a growth spurt recently and could pass for fifteen. It's simultaneously hard and easy to believe that he was on the run for three years already before she met him. Her gaze catches him off guard. His face is trapped in a serious, pensive expression, one that he saves for himself, and his blue eyes have something in them that always frightens her. He smiles when he sees, and all the dark seems gone, though it is only hiding under the surface._

_She turns away and when she turns back, something has changed._

_His face is barely older while he stares and stares and stares, fear and doubt and grief spreading. Strange panic comes over her. The cold is lessening. _

"_Thalia!" Luke's voice says, though his mouth doesn't move and it seems recorded, from so far away. "You can't! Annabeth needs you, too. I need you." Still staring at her, the Luke she sees now holds his hand out._

_She can't think of anything to do but take it._

_When she looks back up at him he has changed again. He's so much older. _

_Just a second ago she was holding his hand, but now hers floats right through. He's become gray and insubstantial._

"_A real Greek tragedy," his voice says, though she's having trouble connecting it to his mouth. "It was always fate."_

_She shakes her head. She doesn't believe in fate. She believes in love and power and sarcasm and action, and so much more. But her voice won't work._

_For him, it was fate, and he would have done anything to preserve it that way. She would have fought against fate to the very end. But it never would have worked._

_The ghost that stopped haunting her briefly becomes less and less human. Even at the very end, he still has the ability to move on. _

_Everyth_ing is so gray.

Now she's here, unsure if it was a vision or a message or just the truth. Artemis sits regally in her tent. The Hunters bring down wild turkeys for dinner, blessing them after the final blow. Thalia stands motionless. Suddenly she isn't confused at all.

_**/./././**_

After leaving camp Thalia fights like she's never fought before. She brings down monster after monster, viciously yet cleanly, relentless in tracking and ruthless in slaying. At first it's amazing. But slowly, the fresh glory begins to fade until all she feels is one invigorating moment.

That's when she leaves.

_**/./././**_

The thing is, it all happened so fast. One minute Thalia had finally convinced herself that Luke was a traitor, and the next he was suddenly a hero, and in all the chaos she'd been left behind, hadn't known what had happened.

Watching everything swirl around her, she knew that she could never escape.

_It isn't this easy, you know._

This is the point where that all changes. This is the point where Thalia stops following all the signals laid out for her and starts making her own fate, because she can. It's not about running anymore.

_I'm sorry it had to happen this way._

She still sees traces of him everywhere, in the gestures and half-smiles, even in the produce section. She still loves him.

_I'm sorry. It had to happen this way._

She has no regrets.

_**/./././**_

"Everything ends, and everything matters…

(Ron Currie, Jr.)

..Are you really so sure that a floor can't also be a ceiling?"

(M.C. Escher)


End file.
